I'm 90% certain it's from 1930, around the time she appeared in Capra's Ladies of Leisure. Unfortunately it's been so long since I've seen that film that I can't tell if it's a still from it or not. My guess is it is.

Stanwyck, like Joan Blondell, had a longer track-record for hot-ness than you might imagine. I mean, seeing the two them strip down to their undies . . . not once, but twice . . . in Wellman's Night Nurse will make any red-blooded male a believer in a big hurry.

Joan Crawford . . . I dunno . . . to me, even when she was hot she wasn't that hot.

Stanwyck set the standard for hotness even as late as her appearance in The Big Valley. She had this incredible black "cattle woman" outfit that hugged every curve and even at somewhere north of 55 she still had it. Or maybe that's just me.

Stanwyck wasn't just hot, with that kind of blazing degree found at the sun's core, something only the most smoldering stars can project, but she was a helluvan actress - comedic, dramatic, what have you. With her oh-so-distinctive voice that had a come-hither inflection in even her most innoccous roles, (which were surprisingly few, thank God!) she was in a seperate level of hotness from almost every other babe in H'wood.

I also thought this was Jennifer Jason Leigh when I saw this as well. It's surprising to me every time I see a photo here of a siren of the past and how incredible they looked in their youth. This makes me want to get Turner Classic Movies back in my hime as fast as possible to watch a REAL good movie again.

Our Statement of Principle

“And, of course, that is what all of this is - all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs - that song, endlessly reincarnated - born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 - same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."-- Nick Tosches